Truth Be Told
by Trystin Fiarra Malfoy
Summary: Hermione had expected the war... but the stress was something far beyond her imagination. As secrets unravel, her life begins to fall apart and rash decisions become part of her daily life. Couplings: DHr, HrR, HG
1. Chapter 1

It was a rainy day that she had decided to visit. Her daughter was away at school and her husband had been called away on business. Years had passed since she had last set foot here. The place brought back too many memories… many of which she wished to forget.

From afar, no one would even question the young woman, but a step or two closer would reveal an entirely different picture. Her body was rigid, swathed entirely in raven black robes which clung unnaturally to her body. She had been standing in the rain for what seemed like ages and had long given up the process of peeling wet silk from her skin. In her right hand, she held a small wooden stick and a dozen white roses in her left. The minutes ticked by and still she did not move from her statuesque stance.The low rumble of a passing car brought her from her reverie and she bent numbly to place the flowers on her mother's grave.

_**Lynn Granger**_

_**Loving wife and mother**_

She would read those words and laugh. Sometimes, she cried. Occasionally, she did nothing… or tried to do nothing. It was an impossible task for she always failed to stop the inevitable… she would always remember.

* * *

"Four," she stated. "I'm sure of it. I suppose those were the first signs. I always tried to ignore it… but life never turns out the way you want it to." 

Hermione stared at her mother, who turned to face the crackling fire. Its dancing flames threw shadows everywhere and for a moment, she doubted the elder woman had spoken at all.

"I had just picked you up from nursery and had decided we should go shopping." Lynn paused, choosing her words delicately. "Anthony and I were barely making ends meet. If you can recall, we had just started the practice and clearly it was a feat much harder than we had expected. Anyway, you had fallen in love with the cutest teddy bear and there was no way we could afford it. Out of all the toys, you had picked the most expensive. Needless to say, we left without it and—"

"Mum, what are you getting at? I didn't come here for stories………."

"Let me finish! You were always so impatient." Lynn turned to give Hermione a sharp look. "As I was saying… On the way home, you were simply angelic. The moment I closed the door, however, you broke out into a huge tantrum. You were kicking and screaming so hard I was sure you'd wake the dead. In a way, I guess you could say you did.

"Everything around you started to vibrate. Cups, toys, books. Everything. And then it stopped. You ran up to me and apologized for making me cry, but it was too late. From that moment on, I had my suspicions… I hardly dared to believe and yet the signs were clear…"

"Magic, you mean. You knew I was a witch even before the letter came…." This time it was Hermione who turned away. "Were you surprised?"

Lynn laughed bitterly.

"Heavens, no! That was the least of my worries." Lynn shook her head. "From that moment on, I knew…that was the only logical explanation. Brown hair and eyes… that unquenchable thirst for knowledge, your undeniable taste for the best. It could only mean one thing."

"Mean what?" an exasperated Hermione yelled. "Tell me already!"

"It meant that you were his..."

* * *

**A/N:** That's it for chapter one. I hope you enjoyed it. This is my first fan fic ever, so please review. Thanks. 


	2. Chapter 2

I remember it like yesterday. For once, I was laying on my bed, listening to the sounds of the night. My mother could be heard crying softly from her room, but I easily tuned her out. _'Nothing new,' _I thought. You see, my mother had been doing this for months now… ever since he had betrayed her; betrayed everything that he had stood for and had been her strength. Anthony Granger, loving father and devoted husband, was cheating on my mother. I was nine at the time, and I retaliated in the only way an underage witch could. _'Accidental magic.'_ Sure, I didn't have the slightest clue about the wizarding world, but the fact that I had powers beyond the norm was obvious. I did little things at first just to annoy him. Lights would dim whenever he tried to read, and things he reached for would as if by some supernatural force, move. I'm sure that in the beginning, he felt that he was certainly going mad. As time progressed, however, I noticed how he'd stare at me strangely whenever he thought I wasn't looking. Eventually, his car keys would go missing or no longer fit the locks of his car when he declared that he was going for a _drive._ I believe that was when he stopped trying altogether. From all the yelling between my mum and Anthony, I discovered that he spent entire lunch hours away from the practice and more than half the time, came back doused in cheap perfume. It wasn't surprising considering all that I was putting him through. By all means, I can't explain how I had grasped the concept of magic so easily. Rather, I just accepted that it was something I was good at and used it to its fullest potential. Living with mum had become nothing less of painful. As thin as she was before, she gradually grew thinner and I only felt it right that Anthony suffer the same as she. Anytime he would eat something in my presence, the food would turn ashy in his mouth and water took on an oily texture. As much as this served to piss off mum when he would rampantly spit out food in half chewed chunks, I would tilt my head down and a satisfied smirk would dance across my lips, hidden by a wave of bushy brown hair.

After two more brutal months, it became apparent that my mother was under severe depression. My 10th birthday found my mum in Intensive Care at the local hospital. _'Accidental overdose…'_ That was what the doctors told me but we all knew that a bottle of anti-depressants and alcoholic drinks was never _accidental. _I sat by my mum's bed for hours and still he never came. When visiting hours ended, the nurse on duty asked if anyone was coming to pick me up. I shook my head no, and she offered to take me home when her shift ended. In the mean time, I just stared at my mothers pale complexion. Her long, golden brown locks were matted to her forehead and I leaned over to brush them out of her eyes. Not that it would have mattered. She had fallen into a coma and I doubted she would be waking soon. Another hour passed and I waved good-bye to the kindly nurse as I let myself into the house. I found him slumped over the arm of an easy chair, putrid smelling liquid dripping from his mouth. I stared at his drunken form and something in me just snapped. I screamed at my father, calling him an irresponsible bastard, not fit to be the love of my mother's life. I ranted and raved, telling him off in any possible manner that would filter through my mind. I told him that he didn't deserve us… didn't deserve to be my father.

That's when he stabbed me. Not in the literal sense mind you, yet somehow, he managed to thrust the blade into my heart and twist the hilt for good measure.

"I'm sure you wish I was." It was a whisper and had I not seen his lips move, I would not have strained for the words.

"Excuse me?" I stood there gaping at him. "What did you say?"

"You wish I was your father!" Anthony stood up, stumbling slightly to the left. "Only I was too stupid to realize that I had the ill fortune of marrying your sneaky witch of a mother and playing father to an otherwise illegitimate child."

I could not believe what I was hearing. For starters, as a ten year old child, some facts took longer to register than others… but then again, I wasn't your average kid now was I? My mind reeled at his words and momentarily ceased to function properly. In an attempt to placate the moment, I stretched my arm out and took two feeble steps towards Anthony, but he turned away in disgust.

"Filthy child," he spat. "Take your dirty blood out of my sight."

* * *

Anthony woke up with a groan. He had consumed a lot more brandy than his aging body could handle. Slowly, he groped his way to the bathroom to relieve himself. After splashing some cold water onto his face, he crept into the bedroom. He was in no mood to face another one of Lynn's emotional tantrums. To his surprise, he found the bed empty. Glancing at the bedside clock revealed that it was half past five. He wondered at her absence, shaking his head vigorously to clear out some of the remaining fog. Dimly, he could feel the fatherly urge to check up on Hermione. She may not have been his daughter by blood, but he had raised her for the past 10 years and any animosity towards his wife did little to change his affection towards his daughter. She was only an innocent bystander caught in the crossfire of two adults. 

He knocked on her bedroom door and was met by silence. A second knock rewarded him nothing more. Anthony grabbed the door knob and opened the door with a slight push. He found Hermione curled up in a corner of her room, papers scattered all around her. On her face were telltale signs of the hours she had spent crying until she had literally exhausted herself to sleep. He tentatively made his way towards her tiny figure when the crunch of paper underfoot marred the silence like a snapping twig. He bent down and picked up the traitorous sheet, squinting at the markings. Hermione's tiny scrawl covered the entire surface. Over and over she had written the same words and had scratched them out as if she had written something foul. Everywhere in the room were sheets and sheets of paper done in a similar fashion, and tossed haphazardly around. He clutched the paper in his hand and tried to make sense of the words that had obviously haunted his daughter to no avail. In bold, angry script blotted with tears:

_Filth… dirty blood…

* * *

_

**A/N:** well here's to chapter 2... i know they're short chapters but they WILL get longer and as long as i update frequently i'm sure youreaders won't mind. Anyway...

thanks mi-chan for being my beta... haha... you're ALWAYS my beta. lol

and of course... REVIEW! i need feed back ppl...


	3. Chapter 3

My 11th birthday pinpointed the start of a new life. You see, after mum's overdose, Anthony devoted all of his spare time in nurturing her back to health. It took a while but as time passed, I was able to forgive Anthony his sins against me as he had never intentionally tried to hurt me. As for his drunken ramblings, they locked themselves into the depths of my mind and I never questioned what had transpired that night. It wasn't until I was quite older that the true meaning of his words sunk in. Meanwhile, I spent much of my time going over new schoolbooks. My Hogwarts letter had arrived shortly after my birthday and I had begged mum to take me supply shopping. I was ecstatic. Finally, I would be meeting people who would not shrink away from the thought of magic. The past two years had pushed me to the breaking point and with any provocation, I would retaliate. Needless to say, I was shunned by all of the students at the local school I attended. _Fear..._ It resided in many of the eyes who dared not stare into my own. The thought alone made me laugh. I began to pride myself on the fact that I could do things they could never even dream of. For starters, I was highly intelligent. I was the smartest in my class for that matter… and extremely talented. I would vent much of my frustrations through music, voice, and dance training and spent hours upon hours practicing. And then there was magic. Untrained as I was, I had somehow mastered simple feats such as levitating small objects, and manipulating things like light switches. I walked the halls with my head up high, knowing that no one would dare challenge me. Even if they were brave enough to try, no one could best me? I mean how could they? I was, simply put, better than them.

To my own dismay, I ostracized myself from the others and led an empty, meaningless life. I had no friends, and painted and sketched often, mainly to pass the time, but eventually gave it up in the quest for knowledge. It was a quieter pastime, and helped divest me of troublesome tutors. Reading also helped to pass the lonelier hours of life. In short, my Hogwarts letter came as a blessing. Try as I might—not that I tried very hard—I could not fit into the world in which I was born and was hell bent on proving that I belonged to the newly discovered one. Starting September 1st, a new chapter of my life would begin. Nevermore would I be subject to the sidelong glances from insubordinate peers. I would rightfully step into the wizarding world; rightfully take my place with others like me; with equals.

I spent the last week before term reading _Hogwarts, A History_. It had become one of my favorite books and I never could put it down for long. At night, I would lay in bed wondering what house I'd be sorted into. I had finally settled on either Gryffindor or Slytherin. Sometimes I asked my mum what she thought but she would always evade my questions. In the end, she would get teary eyed and tell me that Gryffindor would be a good house. I smiled and let her know that Slytherin had much more of an appeal for me but that I would keep her wishes in mind. Not that I really had a choice in the matter. The morning of my departure, I studied her face for a minute before asking her why she had chosen Gryffindor, but her only reply was that we had better get going if I didn't wish to miss the train.

The train ride to Hogwarts was uneventful minus a few students who had caught my eye. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the famous Harry Potter was in my year. He was a shy fellow with unruly black hair and brilliant green eyes. I fixed his broken glasses for him with a simple charm for which he seemed grateful. He has a nice smile. In the compartment with him was another boy with vibrant red hair. I had seen a couple of older boys with the same hair all along the train and assumed they were his brothers. His shabby robes were two inches two short and he had dirt on his nose. Not much of a first impression. The only other worthy of my attention was a young boy also in my year. He stalked the length of the train like he owned the place and I couldn't decide on whether I liked him or not. His platinum blond hair gleamed in the sunlight and he looked positively dashing in finely tailored robes. On a trip back from the lavatory, I noticed that he had amazingly grey eyes… almost silver. I followed him down the train and eavesdropped on the little spat he had with Harry Potter and that red headed kid. As expected, Harry was of the righteous sort and stood up for his new found friend. As for the blond, whom I discovered as Draco Malfoy, he was an arrogant prat and reminded me so much of myself back home. _No wonder no one had liked me…_ I smiled to myself. However, as much as I detested every aspect of this pompous little boy, something about Malfoy drew me to him and I didn't like it. Looking back, it was this reason that drove me from Slytherin. I had heard that Slytherin was his choice house and as I wished to avoid him, hoped that Gryffindor would become mine. It would be best to keep my distance.

As we neared Hogwarts, I contemplated popping into Potters compartment. I admit that I might have been a little pushy with him earlier but old habits die hard. Besides… if I wanted to make a name for myself in the wizarding world, what better way to start than as the friend of _the boy who lived_?

When the train pulled to a stop, first years were asked to follow a giant of a man through a forest and into small boats. We crossed a huge lake and from our location, the view of Hogwarts was spectacular. The actual sorting took place in the great hall. Many of my fellow first years gazed wonderingly at the ceiling but I whisperingly told someone beside me that it was only enchanted to look like the night sky. I had read about it in _Hogwarts, A History_. It was slightly nerve wracking waiting for Professor McGonagall to call my name but when she did, I walked purposefully up to the stool and took a seat. She placed the sorting hat upon my head and for a moment, nothing happened.

'_Curious… it's been a while since I've come across one like you.'_

'_One like what?' I snapped at the sorting hat._

'_Temper, temper… a very Slytherin trait if I must say… but is that where you really belong? You have passion, intellect and talent… oh yes…definitely talent. Salazar himself would be proud. And what is this? Oh your parents would be very disappointed if you were sorted into the wrong house…'_

'_Well then place me in Gryffindor if you're going to go by what my mum wants.' I responded crossly. The sorting hat was starting to creep me out… it knew things about me that I wasn't even sure I knew._

'_Gryffindor eh? Is that what** you** want? You have a great deal of bravery…no doubting that… but that thirst to prove yourself…Slytherin could really help you along you know. My, my… you are a tough decision.'_

'_I already said Gryffindor, or didn't you hear me properly? I've already decided so there's no point in making me unhappy.'_

'_Ha! Child… you hardly know what you truly desire but if this is what you ask, then so it shall be_** GRYFFINDOR!**_' _

The sorting hat had yelled out the last word and I sheepishly ran towards the Gryffindor table amidst great applause. My conversation with the sorting hat had definitely set my mind spinning. What was that rubbish about my parents being disappointed and Salazar himself proud? I shook my head and tried to concentrate on the rest of the sorting. As expected, Malfoy had been sorted into Slytherin and a nervous looking Harry had become a Gryffindor. I clapped heartily for him as he joined us at the table and awaited the outcome for the rest of the first years. It was hardly surprising when the red headed boy—Ronald Weasley, I now discovered—was made a Gryffindor as were all of his brothers. Once again I shook my head and turned towards my new house mates. There was no point in brooding over something I would not understand, pushing it aside to contemplate later in the confines of my bed. I would enjoy the feast, and tomorrow would be my time to shine. It was time for the wizarding world to get acquainted with a new name: Hermione Granger.


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: **I don't know how many loyal fans i have out there but sorry for the long wait. I know my chapters are pretty short as well but they're slowly getting longer. I'll try to update as quickly as possible. Keep reading and REVIEWING. It really helps me when I know what the readers thinks.

Disclaimer: I do not own these characters. all that jazz... and love to JK Rowling.

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September had come and gone and before I knew it, we were well into the month of October. As a first year, any magic that we were depended upon to learn was little more than the basics. Kid stuff. I excelled... much like I had at school back home. Granted, my study habits were far more superior to most people: years of practice can do that to you. I quickly found that many of my peers were somewhat dull . . . and a bit on the slow side. Sometimes, I play nice and excuse the muggle-born ones–like myself–for their lack of skill due to their late birth into the wizarding world. Like I said, however, I was only _playing_ nice because I did splendidly. And where did I come from? The MUGGLE world. Half-bloods had it a little harder. I mean coming from families with only one magical parent; wouldn't a constant display of magic be horrific to the non-magical party? At least they try. You can't blame them all. Harry Potter is a half-blood . . . and he is supremely talented. I spend half my time watching him during classes. Taking notes, it may seem, is the best way to disguise spying on someone. Most of the time, I sit behind Harry and stare_ at the chalkboard._ Don't get me wrong here. I DO take notes . . . just mental ones about Harry as well. There are so many aspects about Harry that I wish I could get to know. He may not be as book smart as I am but he definitely has a natural talent for things. A little bit more concentration and he'll make a fine wizard. I mean, he did defeat _you know who_ and all. The question is, how? Every time I look at him, the curiosity swells to the breaking point. I offered him some pointers . . . but his annoying friend always gets him to shrug it off. What's it to me if he waves his wand incorrectly. Stupid pureblooded git. He's barely a notch higher than the talent less Neville . . . and THAT is saying something. There is no absolute excuse for ANY pureblooded witch or wizard to be so daft when it comes to magic. They have been exposed to it all their lives. It honestly just baffles me. I guess talent plays a bigger role than I imagined.

There is, on the other hand, Draco Malfoy. Prideful little prat if I must say so myself. Then again, he has much to be proud of. If my guesses are correct, he is second in the class, considering there's no way he could be first with me around. So he's intelligent . . . well dressed . . . rich . . . popular (amongst the Slytherins to say the least) . . . but most of all, he's my friend. We never talk much, being in different houses and all, but we often exchange notes via owl. The first note was a threat. Can you believe that? He threatened me!

**_The only way you'll ever be happy is to know your place. Malfoy's don't bow to anyone._**

And of course, I wrote back.

**_Of course they don't. They grovel at my feet._**

He wasn't very pleased with my response. More notes came, and I always responded. Eventually, we gave up on the childish banter and got to writing short letters. Some of them were boring–discussing Snape's newest assignment–while others served as welcome entertainment. Apparently, none of my house mates took much of a liking toward _bossy, know it all Granger,_ so what was the use of hanging around them? With Draco's letters, my first month at Hogwarts passed quickly. Classes took up a large portion of my day, as well as homework, and a bit of extra reading here and there. My spare time, I devoted to writing.

_**I got a perfect on McGonagall's paper . . . but I'm guessing you already knew that. ****Everyone probably knows. How did you do? Soooo... when are you going to teach me how to play quidditch? You've been going on and on about it that I'm starting to believe it might actually be fun. It sounds a lot like soccer to me, but on broomsticks? I have a fear of heights you know. You handled your broom very well today. I didn't think Harry would be able to catch the Remembrall, but he is Harry Potter. Which reminds me . . . about this duel . . . what if you get caught? You're just going to get both of our houses in trouble. And if you get hurt you're going to spend the whole weekend in the hospital wing. How are you going to help me then? Anyway, let me know if you'll meet me. I should start on my homework. Don't start! I know you're going to say it's not due until next week, but I might as well get it out of the way . . . especially if I want to make time for quidditch lessons.**_

**_HG – Dragon Slayer_**

Walking back from the owlery, I spotted Draco with a few other Slytherins. As I passed, he smirked at me. I loved it when he smirked . . . at least at me. He never smiled, but I had begun to read his expressions as of late. There was the _I am better than you _smirk, which is what he usually had plastered on his face . . . but there was also his _I know what you're up to _smirk. The one he always gave me. Really, there was no logical way he could know I was coming back from the owlery, but then again, he is Draco Malfoy. I just smirked in response and made my way to the Gryffindor common room, but not before noticing that he detached himself from his fans and headed in the opposite direction. His letter came sooner than I had expected.

**_Will you STOP signing your letters with Dragon Slayer? We ALL know that there is a SLIGHT possibility that you may be smarter than me, but that in no way translates as my defeat by your hands. I got 89 on McGonagall's paper. Apparently, the unimportance of turning a match into a needle was more prominent in my writing than its actual importance. When am I EVER going to need to do that? Wasting my only chance at warmth to what? Stab someone to death with a needle? Sew some leaves together? And what is all this hype about HARRY POTTER? I mean sure . . . he's famous and everything but he seems very average to me. I see the way you stare at him in potions. My father says he's the "boy-who-would-not-die." I think he's right. If he's so high and mighty, have HIM teach you quidditch. Maybe then, he'll fall off his broom as I had wanted. That's as much as you can hope for where I'm concerned. About the duel, it's all sorted out. I always win. By the way . . . your flying sucks . . . I think teaching you quidditch will be disastrous to my health. _**

**_DM – Lion Tamer_**

In a way, I owe it all to Draco. If it hadn't been for his stupid _duel_, I would never have met that three-headed monster. My true intentions were to make sure nothing serious happened to Draco during the duel, but who knew that he was only setting Harry and Ron up to get caught? Granted I was dreadfully scared for my life when I saw that bloody dog, but I guess you can say it was the stepping stone toward my future with Harry and Ron. And Neville . . . considering he had followed us. We ran so hard. I was surprised that we didn't wake anyone what with all the noise we were making. And oh was I seething. Yes, I was still alive, but if it weren't for Draco and his STUPID plan, I wouldn't have been lurking in forbidden corridors with my head about to be chewed off. What if I had died? What if I had gotten caught? Breaking rules was one thing, but being expelled from the world of magic was another. I had finally found where I truly belonged and I had almost been brutally snuffed from it because of a few boys' immaturity. Boy was Draco going to get an earful.

The rest of the month passed without much commotion. I was no longer talking to Harry and Ron, which Draco delightfully told me was a good choice. I was still peeved about the whole three-headed dog situation, but there was really nothing I could do about it. It wasn't Draco's fault that I had wanted to check up on him. He HAD told me that he would win . . . and in a way, he did. We tried to meet occasionally in the library and talk when no one was looking, but Gryffindor and Slytherin rivalry was not something to be taken lightly. In the end, we simply resorted back to writing letters. It was odd, our relationship, but it was all I had.

**_I have a few questions about the potion we're brewing for Snape. Think you could lend a hand? I know it'll be Halloween weekend and you'll be busy playing pranks on unsuspecting Hufflepuffs, but if you'd meet me in one of the empty classrooms in the dungeons for a bit, that would be great. That is, if you can get your two goonies to stop following you. Haha. Why do you even hang around with them? They can't be very entertaining. At least from my perspective . . . _**

**_Dragon Slayer_**

He responded shortly with a _See you in the dungeons. _I was ecstatic. Despite everything, I had started to feel lonely and outcast. Sure, there was Draco, but with each passing day, I couldn't help but notice that all I had to show for it were a couple of letters. Draco had his Slytherins . . . I had no one.

I couldn't wait for Halloween weekend. It would be my first time doing something with another student outside of class work. It wasn't much of a secret. Hermione Granger had no friends. Or at least, that's what everyone thought! Still, it hurt when others taunted me about this _minor_ fact. I was still human . . . and even the smartest twelve-year old can't help but cry when someone stabs you where you're weakest.

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All I can really say is that trolls are ugly, smelly, vile creatures and I NEVER want to see one again. Stupid gits for making me cry. If it weren't for them, I'd never have been in the bathroom to begin with. At least I made more friends. We knocked out a troll, for heavens sake. If that doesn't bring you closer, what does?

The following morning, I sat with Harry and Ron in the great hall. It was nice, having someone to talk to over breakfast. A couple of times, I caught Draco glaring in my direction... but then again, he always glares at Harry. Ron was actually quite funny when you got to know him. His table manners needed obvious improvement, but all aside, he was enjoyable company. Like Draco, these two were OBSESSED with quidditch. I was listening to the boys talk but their voices were hard to hear with the arrival of owl post. Glancing at the Slytherin table, I saw the owl I had picked earlier deliver my note to Malfoy.

**_Meet me after dinner._**

I still needed help with my potions assignment. Besides, I wanted to tell him about my adventures with the troll. Surely I could have written it to him in a letter, but for once, I wanted to see his expressions as I told him something. Outside of our writing, he was a mask of indifference. Aside from the smirking that is.

I spent the rest of my day lounging by the lake with Harry and Ron. They were prodding the giant squids tentacles with a long branch. I half hoped that it would drag one of the boys into the water so I could laugh at one of them. They retreated to the sanctuary of my tree when both boys tired of the squid.

"So what do you think of Malfoy?" I asked.

"Bloody spoiled git if you ask me." Ron replied. "Whole family is horrid. They think that just because they're rich, they own the world. His father's a supporter of _you know who_. That's what my dad says anyway."

"I don't like him." Harry raised a hand to ruffle up his hair. "I mean what did I ever do to him? He's so unpleasant he can't really have expected me to be his friend."

I was taken aback. Here were my friends, vocally bashing on Draco, the only person who had befriended me before them.

"He can't be that bad. I mean what do you two REALLY know about him?"

Ron stared at me, open-mouthed. "Just wait until he finds something about you he doesn't like and you'll see." He groaned. "Malfoy's the worst. Trust me."

I definitely had my doubts. Everyone knew that Malfoy didn't get along with many people. He was just misunderstood. No one had taken the time to get to know him like I had. Draco was different... he had saved me when times had been rough. I simply couldn't see the side Harry and Ron were describing. I made a mental note to ask him about it later that night.

After dinner, I made my way to the dungeons. When I had left the great hall, Draco had still been dining. I strolled around the empty classroom, using a simple _scourgify_ to clean the dusty room up a bit. Draco was allergic to dust, never having been exposed to large quantities at a time. He had once told me that his manor was impeccably clean. I didn't doubt it. More time passed and I busied myself with some potions notes. I had more or less worked out what I needed to do for the assignment, but having Draco's help would clarify anything else I was confused about. Two hours later still did not bring Draco. I assumed that he had forgotten, making my way to the owlery to deliver another letter.

_**Hey, I waited for you! Two hours! I can't believe you forgot. Meet me tomorrow morning before breakfast, same place.** _

**_D. Slayer_**

I sent the owl to him, hoping I'd get a response before I went to bed. Upon reaching my dormitory, I noticed a folded slip of parchment on my bedcovers. I picked it up and immediately recognized Draco's "artistically slanted" scrawl. At least that's what he called it. Crawling into bed, I pulled the hangings shut and tore open the wax seal.

**_I knew you would sink down to your level eventually. I suppose hanging with the lowly weasel is in your blood after all. I had high hopes for you, you know? Actually started thinking that you understood me, that you'd see me for who I am. I thought that you could become so much more than your blood was worth... but associating with Potter? I'll admit that sometimes, I forgot that you weren't pureblood... the way you held yourself, your immense talent, and impeccable taste (i.e ME). Did you HONESTLY think that I, Draco Malfoy, would befriend the boy who would not die and his insufferable sidekick? Don't deny it... I know that's what was running through your ugly, bushy haired head._ _But this is where we draw the line. I made my mistakes in seeing you for what you'll never be... and you... you made the mistake of not knowing your place. _**

**_Hermione Granger, filthy muggle born witch. Don't write. I won't respond. If it's any consolation... I'll always remember you. Hermione Granger: Slayer of Dragons._**

**_DM_**

**_waiting will only cost you a lifetime..._**

The next morning, I made my way down towards the dungeons and into the empty classroom. It was Sunday. No student in his right mind would be indoors... I sat... missed breakfast... missed lunch... and when dinner rolled around, I knew he would never come. Defeated, I trudged my way up to the great hall and sat myself between Harry and Ron.

"Where have you been?" Ron asked, a mouthful of potatoes.

"Library... you know me..." I lied, sheepishly. Both boys shook their heads. I couldn't concentrate on my food so I tried to join in on the conversation. They were talking about quidditch... and suddenly I was no longer interested. It reminded me of him... I looked up across the sea of heads and I could see him talking to one of his house mates. It only took a moment, but his eyes slowly made their way to my face. He held my gaze and smirked and in an instant I knew what he was trying to say: **_I'm better than you._**


End file.
